


Let's Talk

by Bigmurderenergy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, But he's working on it, Feelings of isolation, Gen, Low Self Esteem, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker goes to therapy, Peter Parker works through some feelings, Spoilers, all of the angst, general feelings of angst, it does however mention consequences, it doesn't mention what happens, not limited to, this is a post endgame story folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 20:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bigmurderenergy/pseuds/Bigmurderenergy
Summary: Peter Parker goes to therapy. He's dealing with a lot right now.





	Let's Talk

“I am so sorry-I mean really! So sorry! I didn’t even realize the time and I just-ah my bad, I’ll pay for that. I just lost track of the time and I-“

“Peter, it’s ok. You know it is.”

“I know I just-“

“Have a seat, Peter. Try some deep breaths. Relax.”

Peter stumbled onto the small sofa dragging his backpack beside him, having already knocked over a vase trying to get it off his shoulders.

He sucked in some air, trying to centre himself in the moment. His therapist had taught him how to do that in the past. It’s a form of meditation. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Really focus on that action. It’s not about not thinking about anything else, like the weight of his body against the cushions, his feet firm against the floor, his hands against his knees, but always bring it back to breathing.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

Looking down at the floor. In through the nose. He saw the fragments of the vase haphazardly brushed into the corner. It was such a nice vase, amber coloured, probably expensive. Out through the mouth. He really ought to buy her a new one.

“So, Peter, how has your week been? Is there anything you’d like to start with?” Her name was Jane. She was sitting opposite him, as always. The perfect distance, not too far away but not too close. More than an arm’s length. It felt strategic. She was only there to listen.

“Yeah. Erm. Well. Work has been good. Busy, lots of stuff to do.” Peter tried.

“That’s good. You’ve said you like your work in the past. What’s made it so busy recently?”

“Oh, well you know, normal stuff.” Peter thought back over his week. He’d stopped a few robberies. Stopped a couple of assaults. Three car thefts. One involved him swinging sixty blocks trying to track the guy.

He knew he shouldn’t have mentioned the job. He’s terrible at keeping secrets at the best of times.

“Just normal. Like, I helped a few people. That’s the main reason. You know, the helping.”

She nodded. Waiting. She did that a lot. She rarely tried to coax information out of him, which helped with the concealing a lot of the details when it came to his line of work. It was a technique, he imagined. Therapy is about what he wants to get out of it in the end. She’s not trying to force it out of him. He needs to want to talk about it. So why the hell does he keep bringing up work in the first place?

“Yeah, I mean, I still feel happy do it and I really like being helpful.”

“Oh yes, you’re volunteering, aren’t you?” She noted.

Peter smiled. “Yeah, you can call it that. Well, that’s what I call it. I mean, originally it was just trying to do stuff because… I had all this free time, you know.”

“Oh yes, to be young.” She laughed.

“Yeah, and. Well, it’s nice to feel needed. To feel like I’m contributing you know.”

She smiled.

Being vague was so hard, especially when his mind goes to the fact he broke a finger just a week ago while trying to stop someone prying open an ATM with a crowbar. Especially when she’s smiling at him like that, like he’s doing something good. Which he is. But it doesn’t feel like that when he can still feel the lump on the back of his head from when a guy threw a chair at him when he tried to stop a bank robbery. That was yesterday.

Sometimes he can still feel the bullets whizzing past his ears when he tries to sleep at night.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

“I mean, its hard work. But someone’s gotta do it, you know?”

“Do you feel obliged to it, Peter?”

“No! Oh no, not at all. I mean, of course not.” Yes, all the time. He can’t not do it, if he didn’t who else would? “I mean, I could quit any time.” No. Nope. Never. “I mean, its not like there aren’t other… volunteers.”

“Exactly. Peter, remember that you’re not the only one out there. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She had said this before. Several times, in fact. It never really stuck with him. Here’s the thing, Peter can bench press a town bus, one handed. The weight of the world really didn’t seem that much more. Especially when that town bus has a lot of lives in there that needed saving. But how can he explain that to her?

This is why he should have gone for the SHIELD operative therapist and not locally. At least there he could have talked more candidly about this stuff. But he wanted to feel normal. So, he came to a normal therapist. Where he could talk about normal things. Why did he always start with “work”?

“Oh yeah, I know. I know. It’s fine. Work is great. Everything is fine.”

“Good. Anything else happen this week?”

Peter tried to get his brain off patrols. Even though it consumed most of his conscious thought. He had to try and get himself into the normal stuff again. He’s just like everyone else. He has a part time job, he goes to school. Oh yeah. School!

“Yeah, school is going great. It’s great to be getting classes again. Oh, and all the clubs are starting up again. Actually, they started up real quick, but the school still hasn’t sorted out meeting spaces and stuff. One of the guys just started doing a chess club at lunchtime just on one of the tables. He really thought he was being all defiant, against the system, playing chess on a lunch table. So, I’ve been learning chess.”

“How nice. How are you finding it?”

“There’s a lot of rules.” Peter smiled. “But it’s good. Ned joined. MJ joined too. She’s very much for clubs that work against the systems in place.” He felt a warmth in the back of his throat, just saying her name. “She’s really great. It’s so much fun playing against her. Except, she always wins. But I’m learning a lot quicker that way, you know.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, so MJ. Right?” Peter began. How to start with these feelings. They’re probably dumb. Why is it easier to talk about chess club? “So, I don’t know. She’s been really great recently. More great than before? No. I mean. Maybe. Or maybe I’m just noticing it more. I mean, we’re all changing all the time, right? So maybe I just noticed her because I changed? Or she changed? But have I?”

He looked to Jane, she raised her eyebrows. “You’re asking me?”

“I mean… Yeah?”

“You know the only person who can really answer that is you, Peter.”

“I know but over the last few weeks you know, have I changed at all? Am I different?”

“Peter.”

“It’s just. I don’t know. I like MJ. But do I _like_ her?”

“Ah.”

“And does this mean we’re both different now because of this change? Because I’ve always liked MJ. She’s great! Really great.” Geez, he says great a lot. “I mean, how can you not like her? She’s so cool. The most, most moral person I know. And I like when she talks to me. Like really talks. About Sylvia Plath. Agnes Varda. Lots of civil rights rallies. Which she actually goes to. Like she does that. She’s actually contributing to these movements. It’s so impressive…”

Not like Peter who races around in a mask trying to do what he thinks is the right thing on his own back. Carrying the weight. Trying to be moral but only by his own principles. MJ? She actually reads about those things. She wants to contribute to a dialogue. Which is why she goes to the rallies, the protests. She’s barely sixteen and she’s already been arrested twice for standing with a group of people who just wanted their voices to be heard.

This is why he liked her.

“I think she likes me.”

And that too.

“Oh really.” Jane smiled. “Why do you think that, Peter?”

“Well… She’s been talking to me a lot. And she keeps following me home.” Which is nice. And a lot easier since May knew about the Spider-Man thing. The only bad thing about that is May keeps offering MJ dinner. Which. They’re not there yet. Where the heck are they? “We have a good time together. She makes me laugh. I make her laugh too.” The warmth was back. “I hope she likes me.”

“That’s good, Peter. It’s nice to hear you talk so positively about someone.”

“It’s nice to talk about.” Peter agreed. This was one of the few things in his life talking to a therapist was helping, quite a lot. He didn’t have to lie. It was easy to just let the feelings flow and those create thoughts that could become coherent. Added into the fact it’s pleasant to talk about anything so positively.

He can lie about work as much as he likes, how it’s great and nothing bad ever happens. But that’s the issue. It’s lies. He must withhold information in order to talk positively about it. And Jane knows that. Hell, everyone knows it.

May knows this. She tries asking, nearly every night. She stays up too. Most of the time it was an elegant entrance, which ends with a small chat about how he managed that evening then both sleeping soundly.

But sometimes, he stumbles through the window. She holds him up. Asks him what he needs. He doesn’t say much on those nights.

This was why May suggested therapy in the first place.

Peter still couldn’t find the words to explain the fact he stays out til 1am most nights stopping petty thefts and assaults because he’s trying to… What is he trying to fix here?

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

He was happy. For a second. Talking about MJ. And suddenly.

“I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get, Peter?”

“I don’t understand how I can be happy. At all.” Peter sucked in a breath. Out through the nose.

“Why do you feel that way?” Jane asked gently.

“I don’t. I mean. I feel.” So much. How can you put this into words? How can you express it? “I used to cry a lot. When I was younger, I mean. Apparently, I was an emotional kid. I still do. Cry, I mean. I don’t know why I do it. I just. I’m alone. And there’s just nothing. No work, no school, no MJ. Nothing. And I just can’t. I have to help people. I have to be here. I know there’s stuff I can do. I can help, you know? I can be there for everyone. I have to be. But then I’m alone. I’m all alone. And…”

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

“I don’t understand why I’m allowed to be happy.”

“Peter…”

“No, hear me out ok. We won right? The world lost so much, and we got it all back. We won.” Peter was there when the world won. He saw it happen. He can’t tell her that. He can’t tell her any of this. “I just don’t feel. Like I won. I feel like I lost something.” He lost him. “I feel like it’s gone forever, and I can’t feel happy without it.”

“You’re allowed to be happy, Peter.”

“No. I’m not. I have to help people. It’s what he would have wanted.”

“He would have wanted you to be happy.”

“He would… But he’s not here.” Peter looked up. The tears falling freely. “Why isn’t he here?”

“We’ve discussed this, Peter. It was an accident.”

“No. It wasn’t.” She’s talking about Ben. He’s talking about Tony.

“Peter.”

She was looking at him. He realized how it all must sound. He replayed his own words back. _I’m alone_. He said that. Out loud. He knows that isn’t true. Not really. But it is.

“I know. I know… I just. I don’t know how to talk about… any of it. I don’t know.”

“It’s ok. Tell me what you can.”

Peter looked at her. He looked frightened. Afraid of what he could say. There was so much he could say.

“I am Spider-Man. I spend my nights getting beaten up by strangers in order to protect other strangers. Most of whom, don’t like me at all, because I’m a vigilante. And I wonder sometimes, am I doing it for the glory of the fight? Is this an ego thing? I make a lot of jokes while I’m fighting. Am I being cocky or am I trying to make light of something that’s harmful to my own psyche. I’m distracting myself from being alive in the real world. I’m protecting it instead. And then as soon as I find some sort of happiness in that world I seek to protect, I crumble into a heap. Because I can’t comprehend the idea of the world giving me something back when it’s taken so much away from me.

“I don’t think I’ve slept properly in a year. Every time I try to rest I find something else to do. Resting means accepting... It means sitting with these… feelings I have. I’m here because I don’t know what they mean or why I feel the way I do. The fact I talked about something sincerely good in my life and then realized how hopeless everything is? That terrifies me. And I don’t know if you can help me. I don’t know who can. I thought Tony would. I thought he’d save me. He saved everyone in the end. He gave his life for everyone. He gave his life for me. And I saw him die in front of my eyes. The guy who gave me a life when I needed it so badly. He’s gone. Just like Ben. Just like my parents. They’re all gone.

“I’m alone.”

He doesn’t say that.

“I miss him.” He says instead.

“That’s ok. You’re allowed to miss him.” Jane soothed.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think I am.” Peter sobbed.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because… Tony… He gave his life for everyone. He gave me an internship, you know? I don’t feel I have the right to feel like this. Not when his daughter… His wife. They… Everyone lost him.” In through the nose, out through the mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This, this is so bad. I’m so…”

“Peter, it’s ok. It’s ok to feel like that.”

“It’s not though, is it? It can’t be.” He felt selfish.

“It is. Peter. Your feelings are natural.”

His hands were shaking. It didn’t feel natural.

“OK. You ask me a lot if you’re doing ok?” Jane said softly. “If this is normal? If what you’re feeling is valid. And whenever I tell you yes, you are ok, you can’t seem to accept that. I’d like to know why that is, Peter?”

Because he felt selfish, unworthy, like he should be better than this. He wanted, he needed to be better. He couldn’t let anyone know. If they did. He’d be even more alone than he is now.

“I don’t know.”

“OK. Peter. How do you feel about your self-esteem?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. I mean. It’s ok, I guess.”

“Peter. Do you remember how we got to here?”

“I started crying?”

“Yes, but what triggered that?”

“Erm…”

“I can tell you. If you like?”

“Yes, please.”

“It was when you started talking positively about yourself. You said, you hoped MJ liked you.”

Oh.

“Peter, your self-esteem is very much linked to how you believe you are perceived by the people around you. You work yourself very hard, with school and your work. You have gone through so much. More than is fair for someone your age. And that’s the thing. It’s not fair, Peter. Trust me on that one. None of the trauma you’ve endured is fair. You need to remember, it’s not your fault.”

Peter sat, tears still falling down his face, he could hear the words, but he couldn’t quite comprehend them.

Jane continued. “You are here, you’re pouring a part of yourself out to me. How I perceive you bothers you, right? How can it not? You’re at your most vulnerable right now.” Peter sniffed. “You are capable of opening yourself up to someone. You don’t have to tell me everything, contrary to belief, that’s not what therapy is. You tell me what you _need_ to. And from everything I’ve heard. You need to find some peace.”

Peace? What does that even look like? The world has just received an influx of joy from the return of the fallen. Is that peace?

It makes Peter’s heart feel cold knowing that everyone returned and there is so much happiness in the world and he just can’t feel it. He feels pain because he knows the cost. It makes him feel selfish all over again.

“I just. I don’t know how to feel like that.” Peter sighed.

“You don’t do it to yourself Peter, it just happens. What you do instead, is create an environment where those feelings are able to flourish. This can mean, finding something else to do with your time. A hobby? A relationship? Something positive to work on. Or. It can mean acceptance.”

“Accepting what?” He asked.

“Accepting the world for all it’s beauty, its grace and it’s pain. Understanding the world for what it is. It is unfair sometimes, but it also gives us so much in return. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life Peter. I’m also not here to tell you how the world works. You figure that out on your own, it’s your own perception. But you can choose to accept the happiness that is there. You can accept that your feelings are your own, and it’s ok to feel them. Even the bad ones.”

He’d never heard Jane talk to him in that way before. It was rare she talked in anything but questions. For her to outright give him a view on the world, that was different.

Maybe she understood that he needed it in this moment. Maybe she saw that he wanted to believe that already. That hearing him talk about work, his volunteering, was him trying to contribute to that. He never specified what he volunteered with. But he imagined she could see him seeing that pain and trying to soothe it. Maybe he already felt what she said, and she was making it coherent for him.

Is that even possible? He wanted to believe it. The world is worth it. In the end it must be. Peter works to keep it safe every day of his life. He does it for Tony. For Ben. For everyone.

He thought about MJ again. He felt that warmth once more.

“Is there anything else you need to talk about today, Peter?”

“I… No, I think I’m ok.” Peter smiled, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I think I’m going to be ok.”


End file.
